


How can I ignore the boy next door

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1950s, AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1583138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>( Niall is an up and coming actor in Hollywood, having been molded into the industry by his producer father and actress mother. He is a little too self aware - already knowing the ins and outs of show business even at such a young age. He could tour you around the studio with a blindfold on, and he's not too shy to admit that.</p><p>Zayn lived in a middle class household his entire life, going from arts school to arts school to learn as much as he can. He's granted a contract with MGM as a stage extra and couldn't be happier. His talent is blossoming with every film he appears in, even just by the smallest things he does. Endearing everyone except a certain blonde. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	How can I ignore the boy next door

**Author's Note:**

> this is purely fictional, I'm not implying anything about anyone mentioned in this story is how they act in real life, but then again.. character development is key, am I wrong?
> 
>  
> 
> Title from Judy Garland's "The Boy Next Door"

 

Niall sat at his mother's vanity, admiring the various pictures of his family tucked into the space between the carefully crafted frame and the mirror. He allowed his eyes to fall closed as he hummed along to the faint music playing in the background, recognizing it quickly as The Trolley Song. 

When he was younger he must have watched 'Meet me at St. Louis' more than any other kid, heart set on learning all the lyrics to the songs included. His mother would watch him fondly from her view in her mirror as he pranced around the master bedroom holding a hairbrush in his hand, belting out the lyrics. She would sacrifice her brush for finger combing everyday if it made her child this happy. 

At the mere flutter of his eyelashes, he saw himself again. His reflection staring back at him with the same curious expression he felt on his face. His faded blonde hair was nicely styled, only a hair or two out of place, but he didn't mind. " _Thump thump thump went my heart strings,_ " Niall sings softly to himself, tracing his fingertip along the expanse of the vanity counter, careful not to touch any of his mother's makeup. She would most definitely have a cow (nonetheless an entire farm) if something was out of place.

" _When he smiled I could feel the car shake_ ," And with that, he looked back up. His lips were tugged up at the corners from seconds before, but his smile quickly faded when he got a good look at who was standing behind him. Or atleast from what he could see in the mirror. He turned around on the plushy stool, resting his elbow on the counter behind him. "Greg." 

His brother smirked, his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets. He sauntered past the threshold and into the bedroom, glancing about the dimly lit room. The record player continued playing idly, switching to a different song Niall didn't quite know.

"Mother sent me to get you, she told me to tell you the guests have arrived." Greg says, and Niall tilts his head down in a curt nod, standing up fast like the stool had suddenly morphed into a nailbed. "Of course, I'll be right down." Then he scurried over to the bed, collecting his bow tie and jacket from where they were laying in a pile on the bed.

He stepped past Greg to get into the corridor, frantically putting himself together with no telling of how he would look. This was not how he liked doing things, he preferred to be ready ahead of time, and even then if something came up he wouldn't be scrambling to put himself together. His brother followed close behind, whistling with an eerie lilt that put a damper in Niall's step, if he's being honest.

As the brothers descended down the staircase, their mother sauntered out from the dining room. She looked lovely and both Greg and Niall made a point to let her know, brushing off the awkward entrance they make into the dining room not three seconds later. The guests beam in their direction, standing from their seats with wine glasses in hand. Mr, Horan walked around the table and stood between his sons, wrapping his arms around either of their shoulders. "Ah, my boys are here." He looks overly excited. 

Mr, Horan takes Niall's shoulders in his hands and guides him closer to the table. He offers kind yet forced smiles to all of the men and women he walks by, then takes a seat near the head of the table - across from where his mother is sitting and next to where his father is.

Greg shoots a glance that Niall doesn't see until the last moment, out of the corner of his eye no less. He doesn't really know what it meant, but he takes time to think about what it might while he feigns interest in all the different topics brought up throughout the main course of dinner. 

"So, Greg," One colleague starts, re positioning the pendant hanging around her lithe neck. "Your father tells me you've applied to film school, how did you come about that?" She asks smoothly, looking to Mr and Mrs Horan beforehand for guidance. 

The boy in question shrugs his shoulders and puts down his fork, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. "It's just something I've always wanted to do." He says, "My father makes it seem so exciting." Then he cracks a smile, and it's so false it almost makes Niall feel sick.

"It is, son. It's a very exciting experience. There's so much that goes into the making of films, so much things you don't get to see unless, well.. unless you're  _there_." Mr, Horan nods, absolutely beaming. 

The guests seem endeared by this very conversation. It's actually kind of funny, it is - how all these people have been in the Horan family's life since the boys were born, and they're still there. Even after all the drama in previous years, what with the accusations of plagiarism and that. (Back on that topic, Niall was appalled someone would start such a thing about his father, he knew his father was a great man. Too good at what he does to ever take someone else's work) It was always the same group of people over at dinner, once every month. Of course there were other events where copious amounts of people showed up, but somehow this group was recurring.

Dinner was finally over after what felt like hours, and Niall and Greg collected all the dishes from the table like they usually do. On their way into the kitchen the older brother made a smug noise in the back of his throat. Niall scoffed. "What?"

Greg was quick to defend himself. "Oh, nothing. Just got something stuck in my throat is all." But it was followed by a twitch of the corner of his mouth, an imminent smirk if you will.

 

-

 

"What happened to that nice girl you were seeing all that time ago? _Elle_ was it?" Mrs, Horan asked the next morning, peering over the rim of her teacup. She and Niall sat at the dining table, eating their breakfast and generally enjoying their break before anything else business-wise came up. 

Niall froze from where he was lifting his spoonful of Wheaties to his mouth, his eyebrows raised. "Estelle, actually. And nothing, we just grew apart."

"Right. The Petersons' youngest daughter, I remember." She hummed, lowering her teacup back down onto it's saucer. "What became of her, do you know?" Niall placed his spoon back into the bowl of soggy cereal and (to be honest) too much milk, pushing the bowl away from him. "Her family moved to Indianapolis for her father's work. Haven't talked to her since."

Mrs, Horan sighed. "She was such a nice girl too. I sure hope you meet a girl like her and fall in love one day." 

That very comment just screamed  _Maura Horan_. Daydreaming on her son's behalf cause god forbid he'd like to do that himself. Niall excused himself and carried his bowl off to the kitchen, then stayed out on the front lawn all day - watching the fluffy clouds roll by in the sky.

 

-

 

Zayn's mother had graciously sifted through the mail for weeks on end, determined that the second a letter from the infamous MGM studios came in she'd alert her son. Zayn, however, was constantly occupied with other things - trying to find something else to fall back on incase this acting thing didn't work out.

He didn't like to work himself up just to be disappointed, that was basically a form of self torture.

This particular morning was different. There was a bounce in everyone's step, which was odd. On his regular morning paper route, he noticed a lot more people sitting on their porches, watching fondly as their children played in the yard with their dog. 

He was especially careful not to hit them with the paper when he threw them, but you can never be too careful, so he just tossed them light enough so they hit the end of the lawn.

The second he'd gotten home, his mother had hollered for him to come into the kitchen. There, she was holding a rather oversized envelope. "It's here!"

Zayn basically tossed himself across the room, taking the letter into his own hands. He opened it in ten seconds flat, letting the leftover paper drift onto the tiled floor. After that was a prolonged silence as he read, his eyes skimming the page rapidly. "I.. got it." He said, almost like he was unsure of himself.

He looked up at his mother's face, incredulous. "I got in!" 

Months ago, Zayn had auditioned for an ongoing role at MGM, only asking for a background role at most. He'd given references and even shown the casting directors what he was capable of, even though none of what he'd presented was what he'd be doing for a long time probably.

Either way, who wouldn't be excited about this.

Mrs, Malik was in tears and when Zayn's sisters ran in wondering what was going on, they too almost were in tears with the news. 

Present day, Zayn was alone in his hotel room, sitting cross-legged on his humongous bed as he pondered just how exactly he got so lucky to be able to experience this. Just a month ago he was struggling to get to his second job on time after school, giving all the paychecks he earned to his parents to pay for groceries. Now, well.. he was to be an actor! Or atleast a future actor.

He couldn't even sleep that night, refusing to get under the satin covers even to warm up his bare arms. He could just go get a sweater from his suitcase, but he would much rather prefer having one of his sisters with him to cuddle. 

 

-

 

"Good morning!" Mr, Horan clapped his hands together, drawing everyone in the areas attention to where he and his two sons stood at the gate. The set was closed in, and basically looked like a giant shoebox from the outside, blocking the hardworking staff from the blazing sun that was already starting to come out this morning. He ventured into the set, leaving Niall and Greg at the doorway to stand awkwardly like kids in middleschool at prom without dates.

Greg turned to his brother, eyebrows raised. "Should be interesting," He chuckled and slapped Niall's shoulder a little harder than necessary. "See you later." Then he took off to get himself something to drink from the craft table. 

Niall huffed, clenching his fists tightly at his sides. He walked (but at this point it was more like a shuffle) to where the makeup tables were set up, hoisting himself up onto one of the chairs. The mirror infront of him was illuminated around the edges with big, round lightbulbs - created to pass as a vanity, but it wasn't the same as the one his mother owned at home.

There was no space for headshots of famous actors and actresses, no space for any memorabilia, the mirror itself was even speckled with makeup that had gone astray previously. "Hello, Niall." A lady's voice came from behind the blonde, and suddenly an apron was being draped across his shoulders, covering his chest and the back of his neck. "Good morning, Elizabeth." He replied, grinning politely at her when she did the same in the reflection of the mirror. She did his hair for him and put on some light makeup, making a mental note to use a sponge from now on considering the brush had tickled Niall's face. He literally had not been able to stop squirming.

"Did you hear about the new cast member arriving today?"

Niall shook his head, blinking his wide blue eyes.

"Apparently he's a natural. Total amateur, but he makes it work for him." Elizabeth said, humming lightly between breaths. "Lisa from the costume department sat in on his audition, said he's quite the catch." She giggles, applying some concealer to the area under Niall's eyes.

The blonde looks at the ceiling, trying his best not to squiggle around. It took him a minute to fully register what he was hearing, taking note of the way Elizabeth was talking about this kid. Like he was some kind of effortless star of sorts. "What did he ... what role does he do?"

"He is an extra, like a kid walking their dog in the background.. or a bag boy at the grocery store." She sighs, putting her makeup tools back on the table, removing the apron from Niall's neck and hanging it on the back of the chair. Niall stares at himself in the mirror, huffing out an impatient sigh. A part of him was relieved that this mystery boy wasn't at the point of stardom to steal his spotlight, just like a part of him never wanted to see his face if he didn't have to. 

But then again, a small,  _tiny_  part of him _might_ want to see who he's dealing with. "Thank you, Elizabeth." He slid off the stool, brushing the leftover makeup off his pants with the palms of his hands. 

Elizabeth gasped a little - reclaiming the blonde's attention. He turned to where she was looking - and he swears just then he could hear a little symphony in his brain playing Louis Armstrong's  _Back O' Town Blues._

A young man, at first glance maybe no more than a few years older than Niall, walked onto the set. This boy only stood alone for a brief second before Niall's father rushed over to greet him, shaking his hand and speaking something inaudible to him and nodding when the boy replies.

Niall places a hand on his hip, ignoring the feeling of someone linking their arm through his. He doesn't even have to check to make sure that it's indeed his childhood friend, Louis standing next to him. He could already tell by the waft of musky cologne that invaded his senses out of nowhere.

He and Louis had met when they were impossibly young. Their fathers had always been great friends, and felt it was only right that their children took that same initiative. From then on they spent every living breathing second together, laughing and playing - ratting eachother out to their crushes at school, blushing when the pretty girl with dark brown eyes and auburn curls giggled and ran away. 

Now, both at the "prime" age of seventeen, they were closer than ever. Only now they had more to talk about. Louis had his lips resting on the rim of a coffee cup, watching with wide eyes as the new boy was given a tour around the set.

"What a babe," Was all he said, after minutes of silence. That was all he said too, seeing as he bolted when Niall's father decided to make his way over to his son, prodigy in tow. 

"Niall, this is Zayn." 

The boy stepped closer. His tongue pressed up against the back of his front teeth in the most heart-melting smile, and the blonde felt like a plate of chocolate truffles under a heat lamp oh so suddenly. He probably would have forgotten to introduce himself back if he hadn't snapped out of this faze when he did. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm.." His eyes flickered to his father's face, then back to Zayn. "Niall."

" _All actors and actresses to the set for rehearsal. All actors and actresses to the set for rehearsal. Thank you._ " Someone said through a bullhorn, sounding like they were standing something like an inch away, though they were most likely where the set was.

Mr, Horan patted Zayn's shoulder, unintentionally shoving him forward a bit. He sped off somewhere and left the two boys alone, glancing at eachother awkwardly until Niall cleared his throat and put on a pokerface. "I have to go now." He sighed, throwing his thumb over his shoulder for emphasis. "I'm kind of the star, y'know." 

Zayn just nodded, his lips turned up in a crooked smile. "Can't have the show without the star, huh."

"Yep." Niall coughed out a laugh, belatedly following his father's trail.

 

-

 

By the time the first few scenes of the film were done Niall had given up. He forgot how tiring this stuff was, how many hours it could take to shoot  _one_ scene. Even longer if someone messed up or forgot their line. Niall scowled inwardly, unable to make any other expression as he watched Zayn's scenes being filmed.

His father and everyone else on this production seemed to adore this kid, showering him with compliments whenever they could squeeze a word in. And Zayn was just drinking them all in, beaming and thanking them.

Sometime in between Louis appeared at his side, still dressed in his outrageous costume. (A mall worker dressed as an elf selling cookies, because that made sense) He was fanning himself with his hat and breathing a little too heavily. "Those lights were a second from melting my skin, I'm tellin' ya. Who needs Cancun when you can dress as an elf and stand under a big lamp?" 

Niall chuckled, using his hands to assist in the fanning act. "His name is Zayn, by the way." 

"Who's this?" Louis asks, sounding out of breath.

"The background guy.. his name is Zayn."

Louis makes an 'ooh' noise, looking over at said boy with curiosity. The cameras were off for now, same with the lighting - but the fans were on full blast. So basically they'd be freezing in pitch darkness until the next shoot. "How's he doing?"

"Surprisingly good," Niall groans, resting his elbows on his knees in defeat. "Is that a bad thing?" Louis says through a laugh, putting his hat on the seat next to him. "I thought the whole point of being an actor was being  good at what you do."

The blonde shrugs. 

"C'mon, Niall. You remember how you were when you first started, you were  _nervous_." The brunet blinks at him until he gets his full attention. "Imagine how he feels. I heard he's here all by himself until the movie is done. That'd be tough."

 

-

 

"How was your first day, darling?" Mrs, Malik asked excitedly over the phone, and Zayn could  _hear_ her smiling. So he did aswell. "It was great. Really busy, and it's really warm here but it was fine."

His mother sighed happily. "I'm so proud of you." Zayn grinned, pulling at the loose threads on his quilt. "You're putting your talent to good use, and that's amazing."

"Thanks, mum. Listen I should probably go. It's really late here and I'm about to pass out, no thanks to time differences." He pouts gently, but smiles again at his mother's reply. "Alright, talk to you later. Love you." 

The line goes dead, but he listens to the silence for a few moments afterwards, all the feelings of homesickness and nervousness flooding back to him and ultimately making it a chore to fall asleep. Again. He tosses the phone aside and turns off the lamp, burying his face into his pillow and waiting for the morning to come.

 

-

 

Niall is convinced he sees Zayn everywhere he goes. He steps out of his father's car a few days later and there he is, standing at the toll booth talking to the officer with such a casual essence about him. It irks Niall but at the same time makes him jealous.

Not that he'd ever admit to that.

Zayn watches Niall and his father walk over, greeting both of them kindly before joining them in their stroll into the studio block. "How are you today, Niall?"

The blonde shrugs, pulling his bag strap higher over his shoulder from where it was slipping. "Fine," He runs his tongue over his lower lip. "And you?" Zayn replies with the same, his tone as nonchalant as his personality.

_Niall hates him._

 

There's no scenes for him to act in today, which Niall is partially dreading but also grateful for. It just calls for a longer day... of doing nothing but watching and waiting for his father to finish up for the day. Why didn't Niall just stay home with his mother like Greg, you ask? He doesn't even know. He thinks about it while he lounges in a lawnchair outside in the shade, wearing sunglasses anyways. There's music playing faintly on the speakers, not loud enough to disrupt shooting but still loud enough to be able to hear.

He finds himself humming along, then soon enough he's singing the words into the thin summer air. " _The moment I saw him smile, I knew he was just my style.."_ He inhales, closing his eyes behind the shades covering them. Niall opens his mouth to sing the next line of words, but it appears someone beats him to it.

" _My only regret is we've never met, though I dream of him all the time._ " He lifts the sunglasses off his face and slides them up to sit on the top of his head, pretending he isn't the least bit surprised to see who he sees. "From what I remember, it's _all the while,_ not  _all the time_."

Zayn rolls his eyes with a small chuckle, holding his hands behind his back like a shy schoolgirl. " _But he doesn't know I exist,_ " He continues, doing an awkward (but still just as cute) little dance. " _No matter how I may persist. So it's clear to see, there's no hope for me -"_

"Alright, that's fine." Niall counters loudly, showing his hands. But he's grinning. "I didn't even know you could sing."

Zayn raises his eyebrows, his entire expression coy. "You don't know a lot of things about me, Niall Horan. You've only known me for a week afterall." He smirks, and Niall sighs. 

"Afternoon," He tips an imaginary hat and saunters away, whistling. 

_Niall hates him._

 

_-_

 

That night when Zayn joins Niall in the car, the blonde tries not to act bothered. He's not bothered, that's the thing, but if he acts like he is then his father will start something and who's really in the mood for that? Mr, Horan hums and pulls out of the parking lot, driving back out onto the street in the middle of rushhour traffic.

"So, Zayn-" He starts, resting his elbow on the windowsill. "What's your home life like?"

Niall groans and buries his face in his hands. He knew this was coming, there hasn't been one person that his father hadn't wanted to know everything about. He was genuinely shameless, asking the silliest of questions to get the deepest of answers. But somehow it always worked out fine.

"Kind of hectic, if I'm being honest. My family is great though, lots of sisters which gets out of hand but.."

"Niall here always wanted a sister, he did."

Zayn shot Niall a questioning glance, accompanied with a wry smirk. Mr, Horan laughed. "But his mother and I were already in over our heads having him and his brother." The car took a sharp turn down a familiar street. "I guess he kind of made up for that by hanging out with girls more. He always had a lot of girl friends, didn't you Niall?"

The blonde allowed his body to sink further into the seat, wishing by the second he'd just be swallowed by the material. 

"Do you have a girlfriend, Zayn?"

"No, sir." 

Mr, Horan nodded, prolonged like he was deep in thought. "Maybe if you look in the right places you'll find yourself one right here. No one can resist a lover of the theatre, am I right?" He chuckles. "That's how I charmed Niall's mother." 

The car drove right to the house, which confused both Niall and Zayn for the same reason. "Uh, dad. You forgot to -" But his dad had already stepped out and made his way up towards the front door. It looked like he wasn't planning on dropping anyone off at their hotel anytime soon. Especially not a certain young brunet boy who was frozen in his seat next to a blonde boy who was in the same predicament. 

 

"Is this your room?" Niall glanced back at the door briefly, not bothering to confirm or deny the question before going back to what he was doing. Which wasn't all that important to begin with, he was sorting his records by date. Exciting right.

Zayn wandered around every corner aimlessly, moving this and that subtly whenever Niall looked away. "It's great. This is a really nice house, man."

"Thank you." Niall replied quietly. He ran his fingers through his moderately overgrown hair and pushed it to one side, despite the nagging at the back of his head to fix it. "My mom helped me decorate it when I was like.. twelve."

The older boy whistled in that way that shows you're impressed, either genuinely or sarcastically. They stand there for a while until Niall cracks and scurries over to his turntable, picking up the needle and setting it on the very edge of the record. Instantly, a melody filled the room. Niall began to sing along.

"May I just say, you are the only man I know that sings love songs and doesn't change the  _he_ to  _she_." 

Niall furrows his brow, clasping his hands together for lack of a better thing to do with them. "I sing them how they're written. I feel like it does injustice to the artist if you change their lyrics." He blinks - feeling a brush creep across his freckled cheeks when Zayn walks closer to him.

"I like the way you think."

Niall can't help but giggle shyly at how this boy who can't be any older than he is sounds like a proud father. He doesn't know when his confidence dropped to a zero, but he assumes it was when Zayn stepped into his territory and stared him right in the eye. 

He didn't exactly do  _that_ , but you know. 

Now he was reaching for Niall's hand, and the other. Both hands! His fingers laced through the empty spaces in Niall's and held them like that - observing them. The blonde wanted to pull his hands back, wanted to slap him and say " _How dare you?! I did not give you permission to touch me!"_ But does he? No. He lets Zayn's face get way too close to his. Close enough that he can feel his breath on his upperlip. 

He can see the older boy's eyes move down to his lips, but he doesn't move.

"Hey Niall, I- oh." Greg stops in the doorway, his hand lifted halfway up to his face. Zayn tears his hands away and spins on his heels, keeping his back to the other two. Niall rubs the back of his neck, trying to ignore the tingling feeling in his palms. He wants to laugh and tell Greg to get out of his room, but instead he just stands there and prays that his big brother keeps what he saw to himself. "Dinner is ready." 

He waited until his brother was gone and downstairs before speaking again, holding onto either side of the doorway as he breathed heavily. "Oh my god."

He swears he repeats the phrase as many times as he can before he starts to forget his vocabulary, pacing frantically. "I can't do this.. what if he  _tells_? I'll be screwed."

"Act natural, okay? If he doesn't tell them, your body language will."

Easier said than done. And he honestly doesn't care if he's thinking out loud anymore, this is serious. They walk downstairs, fairly close but not far enough to make it look like something happened. They smile at eachother no matter how awkwardly and sit across from eachother at the dinner table. "I called you a taxi to pick you up after dinner and take you to your hotel, Zayn. Hope you don't mind." Ms, Horan says, smiling.

"Oh, no. That's great thank you." Zayn only looks up for a second, still poking at his dinner with his fork. In the same instant, Niall pushes his plate away and wipes his mouth, standing up from the table. "I'm going to bed, it's been a really long day. Uh," He pauses, deadpanning at pretty much everyone around him. "Thanks for dinner." 

 

-

 

The one thing worth looking forward to each year are the parties. The various award shows that you either hear about in the paper or that you attend in person, dressed your finest and still disbelieving that it's really happening. You really got this far, and you're being rewarded for it.. even if you don't end up winning anything.

See, the wife of one of the men that works at MGM hosts galas every year, same date every time. They're always over the top, almost like a Gatsby party, but less mysterious. Less theatrical, as the book describes. Anyone working on the general set is invited, along with the many other people that the wife would add to the guest list.

Niall and his brother wore near identical suits, not by intention of course, but the blonde cuffed his pant legs to just above his ankle bone  _and_ added a colourful tie. While he'd solved one of his problems, another arose. He previously intended to avoid confronting Zayn at all costs, but being professional if he was found out.

What with this snazzy outfit of his, it'd be near impossible to not be able to pick him out of the crowd. And that was what Zayn thought as he weaved through the crowd, his hands shoved in his pockets to avoid touching anyone else. He reached out a hand and tagged Niall on the side of his arm, grabbing his immediate focus. The blonde boy tightened his grip on his champagne flute, giving Zayn a brief once-over for good measure. "Well would you look who it is." 

"You look nice," Zayn chided, tilting his head. "Still mad at me for pushing you out of the closet infront of your brother?" He grinned cat-like. Niall wanted to punch him right then and there, but he had more class than that. He settled for a decent cringe. "You didn't  _push_ me out of anywhere, you twit." 

"Seemed awfully mad for a boy who got flustered over hand holding." He retorted, although smoothly, leaning extremely close to Niall's ear. He could feel his fingertips thrumming against his hipbone and then cease motion, just resting there instead. "Please don't," Niall tried weakly, keeping an eye on his surroundings. There were people everywhere. It was shocking that no one had seen them yet.

As he was told, Zayn retracted his hand. "Everyone in this room is too wrapped up in themselves to care about the anonymous kid touching your hips, don't worry about it." He strode back through the crowd of people, and Niall looked into his glass with a light frown. He needed to sit down, like right now.

 

Not long after he managed to maneuver back to his family's table Greg found him. He then proceeded to skip from empty chair to empty chair until he was next to his brother, unaware that he had spilled half his drink on the way over there. He sat backwards on the chair, resting his head on the backing. "Yes or no -" He cleared his throat, lifting his index finger from his glass to point at Niall. "Do you like boys." 

"That's a loaded question."

"Yes or no." It was hard to tell if he was drunk or not. His pupils were at average size, he wasn't swaying, his speech wasn't slurred. But he was holding a glass of alcohol so who knows. Niall exhales through his mouth, looking around at all the people. "It's not that I don't like girls. girls are awesome. And I liked dating them, but.." 

Greg clicks his tongue off the roof of his mouth, narrowing his eyes. "Don't hide. God damn Niall, since when were you the type to be shy?" 

Definitely sober.

Niall shrugs. "It's all Greek to me." 

His brother mutters something under his breath, his eyes still narrow like before. Niall called himself a cab when he felt he'd been there too long, and waited out in the garden to be picked up. Something in his brain was making up scenarios for him, like he'd walk out there and miraculously run into Zayn again, then they'd talk and then Niall would get in the cab just as they were about to kiss. Stupid stuff like that, really. The garden was empty, besides the flowers and such, and there was something unfortunate about that.

He didn't have work tomorrow, he had no ways of connecting to Zayn either. So his only options would be to go home like anyone that wasn't living in a fairytale, sleep off his alcohol induced fantasies and wait until the next business day rolled by.

"Hey hey hey," Someone panted loudly, doubling over and grabbing their knees once they were near the parked car, catching their breath. "Mind if I split the tab? I've got to get back to the hotel or they'll lock me out." Niall raises an eyebrow, staring at the boy from where he's holding the car door open. "Is it past your bedtime already, Zayn?"

The boy stands up straight, laughing wryly, but there was definitely a twinge of fondness melded in there. "Get in the car, Horan."

"Alright," He defends, crawling across the backseat and waiting as the other boy did the same, closing the door behind him. The car sets in motion, and the driver looks back at them to ask where they wanted to go and frankly it's weird to hear Zayn recite the address of the hotel he's staying at so surely. 

Niall had to think for a minute before he even remembered his house number. 

Within the first fifteen minutes the cab arrived at the front of Niall's home, and just before he opened the door and left, he turned to Zayn. "See you on Monday?" His pupils were blown wide, but nevertheless Zayn couldn't stop staring at them. "Oh, yeah. Sure."

 

-

 

_I just adore him,_

 

Zayn pulls Niall closer towards him, ignoring his playful protests that his arms will snap off with any more pulling. Niall watches him, eyes bright and curious. He registers the feeling of Zayn's arms wrapping around him, enveloping him in a hug that immediately crosses the line between friendly and more than. 

 

_so I can't ignore him,_

 

His giggles die down slowly and he brings his arms up to rest on both of Zayn's shoulders, burying his face into his neck for the time being. They sway from where they're standing, which is admittedly awkward at first - but it steers things in the right direction. 

Zayn lifts Niall's chin the slightest bit, having to move his head back to avoid going cross eyed from all this eye contact. The very gesture makes Niall's heart beat a little faster, makes everything seem so juvenile. As if they aren't standing in the middle of Niall's front yard, to be blind to their surroundings if it wasn't for the dim moonlight.

Niall wants Zayn to kiss him.

He wants him to, and he doesn't understand why he hasn't already.

God, Niall _hates_ Zayn.

After much staring (which isn't as romantic as it is kind of creepy), Niall decides someone has to do it or it'll never get done, and why not take the title for himself? So he props himself up on his tippy-toes, curls a hand around the back of Zayn's neck, and kisses him gently. Right there in the yard.

Zayn barely hesitates before he starts kissing him back. Not roughly, but sweetly.

So maybe Niall doesn't hate him so much afterall.

 

_the boy next door._

 

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully this wasn't too bad haha.  
> it took a hella long time to write and my brain hurts :(


End file.
